


Sick Days

by sentient_bees



Series: The Adventures of Parker and Keener [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Awesome Pepper Potts, Dad!Tony, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Sick Peter Parker, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, This Is STUPID, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentient_bees/pseuds/sentient_bees
Summary: The flu slowly but surely works its way through the Stark-Parker-Keener household.





	Sick Days

**Author's Note:**

> This really isn't my best work but it's fine everything's fine.

It starts in the morning. 

 

Harley and Peter are on their way to school in the black audi, driven by Happy, when Harley notices something is off. Peter looks paler than usual, and is less enthusiastic. Usually, he’s a very expressive morning person. So much that Happy almost always puts up the divider in the car because he won’t shut up. It was up today, because unlike the two boys, Happy was not at all a morning person. 

 

“Dude, are you okay?” Harley asks cautiously, and Peter opened his eyes. “Hm? M’ fine.”

 

Harley raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question it. He was out late during patrol last night, that must be why. He knew this because Peter had come stumbling into the kitchen from the balcony at two in the morning and scared the shit out of him, who was just trying to eat some cheez-its in the dead of night in peace. Like any normal person would. Normally, Peter would be able to stay home and rest if he wanted after a particularly hard night out, but he insisted on going because he had a spanish quiz.

 

They’re halfway through first period when he gets worse. He begins to cough, not a lot of first, but eventually goes into such a coughing fit that the people around him can’t help but be annoyed. Ned and MJ had also expressed their concerns, but Peter just brushed them off. Then the sneezing happened, and he buries himself in used tissues by the end of fourth period. 

 

During lunch, Peter decides to spend his time throwing up food rather than eating it, and that’s where Harley draws the line. 

 

“Dude, come on, you’re literally dying. You’ve been coughing and sneezing non stop today and you’ve been puking your guts out for,” he checks his watch (for dramatic effect) “about ten minutes now.” 

 

“I said I’m fine.” Peter closes his eyes and leans against the cement wall in the bathroom stall, facing away from the blazing lights of the bathroom. Harley rolls his eyes. “Oh really?” 

 

Pete nods pathetically. Harley walks over to one of the stalls and slams the door, which makes Peter jump severely. “What the hell was that for?” 

 

“You’re sick and your senses are in overdrive. You’ve been sleeping through half of our classes, man. You have to go home.”

 

Peter just wined in protest and tried to stand up, but found himself back on the floor when he started seeing black spots in his vision. 

 

“Come on.” Harley put an arm around Peter’s waist and led him out into the hallway and to the nurse’s office, willing him not to throw up all over the both of them. 

 

Peter laid down in one of the beds while Harley instructed the nurse to call Tony. At that point, he was so exhausted he didn’t fight it. The other boy had to eventually leave to go to class, saying his goodbyes before leaving Peter alone to shield his eyes from the fluorescent lights of the office. He curled into a ball and didn’t open them until he felt a calloused hand on his shoulder, the faint smell of cologne and motor oil accompanying it.

 

“Hey, bud,” said Tony, his voice soft, “Time to go home.” Peter complied, too tired to resist. Tony carried his bag and slung an arm around the teen, practically carrying him out of the school and into the car. 

 

Tony Stark has been called many things, but partenal was not one of them. But after a couple of years’ experience on hand and some words of advice from Peter’s Aunt May, he had all the essentials. He put noise-canceling headphones over Peter’s head as he leaned the passenger seat down enough so he could rest, and made sure there was a bag nearby incase Peter’s stomach decided to protest. 

 

They rolled up to the tower with minimal complications. Peter thought he was going to throw up at one point, but only dry heaved before laying back down. Tony had to coax him out of the car and into the elevator, and promptly dumped him on the couch, dimming the lights and making him comfortable, or as best as you could when you’re sick.

 

Tony sat down at the edge of the couch, feeling Peter’s face burn up. “I think you have a fever, bud.” 

 

Peter very badly wanted to reply “no shit,” but held his tongue for fear of what else might come out. 

 

Tony asked FRIDAY for a scan and an exact temperature, which came up at 104 degrees. 

 

“Jeez. You need to drink some water or else we have to go to the medbay, okay?” Tony held up water to his lips and Peter tried to drink, he really did, because he hated needles. Sadly, it all came up about five minutes later. All Peter could do was whine when Tony picked him up bridal-style and carried him to the medbay.

 

\---------

 

With an IV drip hooked up, much to Peter’s displeasure, he shoved off the blankets as his body overheated, and Tony just pulled them back up again. “Easy, kid. You’re gonna be cold.” 

 

And, sure enough, a few minutes later a chill was sent down his spine that made up him pull the blankets up to his chin, teeth chattering. 

 

Tony spent the better part of the afternoon trying to get the teen to drink ginger-ale for his stomach and take the meds that Bruce had given to him, but all was in vain.

 

Around three o’clock, Harley came bouncing into the medbay. “Whoa.” All it took was one look to tell that Peter looked like absolute shit. It was amazing how fast a super metabolism could advance an illness in a day. This morning he was pale, but fine, and about seven hours later he looked like he had been sick for days. 

 

He walked over to the bed where Peter pressed a cold pack to the crook of his neck, looking miserable. “You look like shit,” Harley said as he sat down.

 

“And you’re annoying,” Peter replied weakly before attempting to put his headphones back on. “Stop breathing so loud.” Harley just huffed out air loudly and put his headphones on for him. 

 

They sat in silence, Harley scrolling through his phone with his feet propped up on the bed. That is, until, Peter sat up suddenly with wide eyes and reached for the trashcan next to his bed. 

 

Harley was quick to sit up, not hiding the look of disgust on his face as Peter threw up for the fifth time that day. “Hey FRIDAY? Wanna get Tony down here?”

 

“Already on it,” the AI replied, and sure enough, Tony came through the medbay doors, swiftly making his way to the teen’s bedside, taking the trash can away as Harley stood and watched. “Gross,” he said, which only earned him a glare from Tony. “What? It is!” 

 

Tony didn’t leave Peter’s side after that. He got incredibly clingy when he was sick, and Harley was sure that even if Tony wanted to leave he wouldn’t let him. Instead of eating dinner with everyone else, Tony opted to stay downstairs, where Bruce was looking the kid over. 

 

“It’s just the flu. Advanced rather quickly, but it should work its way out of his system naturally just as fast. I’m going to keep an eye on his temperature, though. Since he’s enhanced he runs a little bit higher than the average person, but if he hits 105 we’ll need to take action to counteract it.” 

 

Tony just nodded, patting his friend on the shoulder, “Thanks, Bruce.”

 

He smiled. “No problem. Just get some sleep, okay? You’re no use to him if you’re tired.” Tony agreed and Bruce left the medbay after instructing him to lay in the bed beside Peter.

 

\-------- 

 

The next day, May came to visit the tower, since her nephew couldn’t leave to come to the apartment. She made Tony eat and take a shower before returning to Peter’s bedside, his paperwork for the day in hand. May raised an eyebrow. “Paperwork, huh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lift a pen.”

 

The mechanic just rolled his eyes. “Pep needs this done by tomorrow. I’m not exactly going anywhere anytime soon, so I might as well get started.” He chuckled and looked at the sleeping teenager. He was no longer dripping sweat, though he was still pale. He had improved considerably throughout the night, much to their relief. Bruce was right in saying it would work its way through his system rather quickly.

 

May just smiled. “You’re good for him, you know that?” 

 

Tony returned the gesture, gazing fondly at Peter’s somewhat peaceful expression.

 

\-------

 

Two days later, Peter was practically bouncing off the walls with energy.

 

He had gotten considerably better in the third day of his illness. He moved back up to the couch in the living room because he was able to drink water again, and even ate.

 

Tony spent a couple of hours in the workshop, leaving the kid to his own devices, but eventually left around lunch to make grilled cheeses and watch movies with him. 

 

When he returned from school, Harley sat in the living room on the ground as they played cards, no longer fearing Peter was going to throw up everywhere. He takes a sip of water while slamming down another card in a game of war, and Peter stops to look at him, wide-eyed.

 

“Oh no. You’re not gonna puke again, are you?”

 

“No. But you might.” Peter points at the glass in his hand, “That’s mine.” 

 

Harley stares down at the drink. “Son of a bitch.”

 

Before he can stop it, Peter is laughing, only stopping to cough into his sleeve. Harley pouts and looks at the water in disgust before going over to the sink and rinsing his mouth a couple of times. Okay, a lot of times. Tony walks in amongst the chaos and looks around. “What’s going on in here?”

 

“He drank my water and now he’s angry that he’s gonna get sick,” said Peter between laughs. Tony groaned. “Not you too Keener. I can’t spend all of my time taking care of sick kids. It’s not in my nature.”

 

“Well it is now, clearly,” Peter gestures to himself and Harley. 

 

“Whatever. You start throwing up, you get to a bathroom, got it?” Tony pointed at Harley and he nodded. As Tony leaves, he can hear Harley resuming his cleansing in an attempt to rid of the illness before it can start, and Peter’s guffawing as he works himself into another fit of coughs.

 

\--------

 

Harley knows it right as it hits him. 

 

It starts about three days later, just when he thought he was in the clear. He made it through the weekend, but it started on Monday of the next week. He throat was killing him all throughout school and the next day he was getting sick all through the morning. He didn’t tell Tony, though, and he made sure FRIDAY didn’t say anything. He found out when he went to retrieve him for school and found the boy curled up in bed.

 

“Harley, you’re gonna be late! Oh, no,” Tony rushed over and felt his head with the back of his hand. “Dang, Keener. Thought you were in the clear.”

 

“Me too” he replied weakly. Tony started to fuss over him, but he only moaned in reply. “Go ‘way.” He complained. Unlike Peter, who would suddenly become very clingy when he was sick, Harley was the exact opposite. He hated people trying to take care of him. It annoyed him to no end when people tried to talk him into eating or drinking. He could do those things just fine on his own, thank you very much. 

 

Tony hesitated. He’d only really taken care of Peter before, and he didn’t often protest to help when he was especially sick. He’d also taken care of Pepper, but she mostly preferred to look after herself as Tony observed her. He assumed Harley was more like the ladder. 

 

“Alright,” he got up to leave the room, and came back with a glass of water and a sleeve of saltines. “You drink half of this water and at least one cracker within the next hour and I won’t be bothering you much at all today. But only if you do this stuff.” Harley gave a salute from his bed. “Yes, sir,” he said, throat croaking. 

 

Peter came into the room then, “Harley? Happy is waiting-- oh.” His eyes fall on Harley’s huddled form. “Nice.” Tony chases him out and cracks the door open, instructing FRIDAY to tell him if anything happens. 

 

Harley does pretty well, at least at first. He drinks three quarters of the glass within the hour, and even manages to nibble on the cracker. When he had the urge to throw up, he resisted as best as he could. There was no way he was giving in now. He did this by shifting his weight around a lot and camping out on the bathroom floor, where it was nice and cool-- to counteract his burning fever. Tony kept his word and distanced himself, coming in occasionally to try and coax him into taking medicine. 

 

When Peter returned from school hours later, he found him on the bathroom floor propped up on the wall, fast asleep. He lightly kicked the sleeping boy’s legs, and he slowly drifted into consciousness. 

 

“Hey, what’re you doing on the bathroom floor? It’s weird.”

 

“You’re weird.” Harley replied weakly, wincing at the sound of his own voice. “Can you go away? I’m kind of trying not to throw up and your face isn’t helping.”

 

Peter just rolled his eyes. “I actually brought you something, but I might just not give it to you because you’re being kind of an ass.”

 

“But that’s always how I am.”

 

“I know.”

 

Peter pulls something out of his bag, “You’re no enhanced being, but I wanted to give you these in case you needed them.” Harley looks up to see his headphones in his hands.

 

Harley didn’t reply, as he was breathing hard as he fought another wave of nausea. He didn’t have enhanced hearing that was easily irritated like Peter, but regardless his senses did get sharp when he was sick. He’d been having a sharp stabbing pain in the back of his head since it started yesterday afternoon, so he was grateful when the headphones were put over his ears and blocked out the sharp sounds of water running and cutlery against the sink drifting through his bedroom from the kitchen. 

 

He tried to say thanks, but could imagine it just came out as a pitiful squeak, because Peter just smiled before leaving him alone again.

 

\-------

 

Before long, Pepper came home from work, her heels sharp against the tile floor of the kitchen. “Where’s Harley?” She questioned pointedly to her husband, who was attempting and failing to make something edible. 

 

“He’s been sick all day. Likes to keep to himself, I guess. Won’t really let me take care of him.” 

 

“He caught what Peter had?” 

 

“Yep. It’s making its rounds. If you plan on visiting him, I’d suggest you wash your hands after. Maybe shower. Just get the whole sick vibe off of you.” 

 

Pepper tossed her heels off and took her hair out of her tight ponytail, already walking towards the bedrooms. “I’m warning you, Pep, it’s a germ warzone in there. Be careful!” Tony calls after her, and she only shakes her head and smiles before entering Harley’s room. Her eyes immediately fall on his sleeping form. “Hi, hunny,” she cooed, “how are you feeling?” The boy only hummed in reply, too tired and too afraid to open his mouth, concluded Pepper. She examined him closely as she sat at the edge of the bed, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder, “Have you eaten anything today?” He nodded, just barely enough that Pepper could see, and pointed his head towards the nightstand, were half a saltine sat.

 

She frowned as he shuddered under her touch suddenly, shooting up from his place and throwing up in a bowl that was beside him. She watched on, a hand rubbing his back. Once he was done, though, he looked absolutely mortified to see Pepper Stark, his idle, sitting there, having just watched him get sick. Pepper just smiled softly in understanding and helped him settle back in his bed, promising to take care of him if he let her. Hesitantly, he nodded, and she got to work. 

 

\--------

 

A few days later, Harley was doing much better. He began to eat and would even walk up and down the hallway when he wasn’t being plagued with vertigo. 

 

About three days after Pepper started taking care of him, he sat on the couch watching Peter get ready for school, quickly noticing the absence of a certain mechanic. “Where’s Tony? Is he up yet?” Harley looked around, expecting him to come out of his room, grumbling about needing coffee at this godforsaken hour. 

 

“I guess not.” Peter shrugged, but then immediately realized something. “Wait. . .” He was wide-eyed, and ran into the hallway to Tony’s bedroom, Harley following closely behind. And, of course, there was Tony, fever and all. Pepper was standing over the bed, checking his temperature. Peter walked briskly to his bedside. “Tony! I must have gotten you sick. I’m sorry.”

 

Tony just grumbled in reply, burying himself deeper into the pillows and blankets. 

 

“Don’t apologize sweetie,” Pepper said as she watched Tony carefully; “Tony just wasn’t careful is all.”

 

“Was too.” He said weakly. Harley just watched with mock-concern. “Are you sure he’s okay? I hear illnesses like this get a lot more dangerous when you’re old.” Tony protested, but just barely. Pepper chuckled, “yeah, I heard that too.”

 

“How come you're not sick?” Tony complained, gazing at his wife.

 

“I don’t get sick, dear. It's not in my nature.” 

 

And, it’s true. Pepper Stark, the invincible Pepper Stark, never did catch that flu.

**Author's Note:**

> This is highkey based off of what my sister and I are like when we get sick. My sister gets really really sick (she lost a few POUNDS last year when she had the flu for a week straight,) and I (like I imagine Harley,) HATE being taken care of and would rather be left to my own devices until I get better.


End file.
